Few Days and Full of Trouble
by DayWalker
Summary: Spike Pratt, lead singer of Blind Love, has fallen into the downward spiral of rockdom and just when he thought things couldn't get worse, they do. Then he meets his saving graces - the Summers women. Trouble is, Buffy hates him and wishes him dead!
1. Man Of Woman Born

Prologue

_He was in deep shit…the deepest._ _Now if only that damn beast would shut up…then he could figure some kind of way out of this._

_**My eyes feel like they're gonna bleed  
Dried up and bulging out my skull...**_

In the far corner of the room, a man sat huddled on a filthy mattress. His skin was like rice-paper and his body was gaunt. His hair was like a field with smashed-down brown patches and sticking up clumps of platinum, a disaster left over from when he tried to bleach it. Lacking the resources for a good dye job (and functioning brain cells), he had stuck his head in a bowl of Clorox. It wasn't called _bleaching_ for nothing, right?

_**  
My mouth is dry  
My face is numb...  
**_

The man looked over to the middle of the room and shuddered. In the middle of the room lay the source of his misery – a six foot creature with the head of a goat, the body of a man, and the legs of a horse. The beast's arms had sore, black spots and it would occasionally groan and thrash about.

_**Fucked up and spun out in my room  
On my own... here we go...**_

_"From beneath you it devours…beneath you… beneath me…"_

_"Fair is foul and foul is fair… you loved that cunt didn't you… loved to watch her scream…ripe wicked plum… fuck that sweet cunt… watch all that blood working its will…"_

_**My mind is set on overdrive  
The clock is laughing in my face...**_

_"They're coming to take you away…those men in the white vans… ha ha ho ho hee hee…bad rude man… kill the bitch….cut her throat…spill her blood…you think they won't find out? They know…they're watching you…"_

He squeezed his eyes shut and covered his ears, trying to shut out the taunts of the ugly, three foot men in neon green bikinis that kept following him everywhere.

_**A crooked spine  
My senses dulled...**_

"Shut up. Shut up! SHUT YOUR BLOODY FUCKING GOB!" the man screamed at his tormentors.

_**Passed the point of delirium  
On my own... here we go...**_

The little men in green ignored him and kept taunting him with their cackling and singing and dancing. The world became warbled and his ears rang. Suddenly, the beast stopped moving. The man timidly left his corner and went to check on the beast.

_Shit._ The beast was not moving or breathing. _Shit shit shit!_ _Bloody fucking shit!_ The little men's taunts deafened him. He had to shut them up. He'd use magic. Yeah, a little sprinkle here would make them disappear. He'd silence them…

* * *

The man awoke to the sound of beeping and echoing voices. He opened his eyes and found that he was no longer in the room with the beast. He was in a hospital…with nurses…and doctors…and forms…and questions…and speculation. He had to get out.

The man groaned as he tried to move his limp limbs. His body felt heavy and his movements were sluggish, but he managed to remove the tubes that were attached to various parts of his body. After a slight struggle, he managed to sit up. As he was about to get off the bed, a voice halted him, "You're not going anywhere, Spike."

Spike looked up to see his best friend, and mayhap only supporter left, standing in the doorway. He and Alexander Harris had been friends since the third grade until then. They had been there for the highs and lows of each other's lives. When all others had given up on him, Xander never did. Now Xander looked to be ready to join the rest of the world as he looked at Spike with a mixture of anger, sorrow, relief, and massive disappointment.

"Look, Xan, I can't stay here. I have to---"

"No. You're not going anywhere. I let my guard down once but not again. I know you're using ," said Xander with a fierce, determined expression.

_**I can't escape this hell,  
So many times I've tried...**_

Spike glared at him.

"What are you talking about? I'm not."

"Do you think I'm fucking stupid, Spike? You've got tracks on your arms! You're shaking like a virgin on prom night and your eyes are all shifty! I found you holed up with Doyle at death's door in that slime ball Rack's apartment!" Xander growled.

_**But I'm still caged inside...  
**_

Spike hissed and hobbled off the bed. He went towards the closet, intent on getting dressed and leaving. Xander walked over to him and pulled him away form the closet.

"I said…you're not going anywhere, Spike. I meant it."

"Leave me the fuck alone you soddin' wanker!"

"No! You're my best friend and I'm not giving up on you!"

"You should. Leave me alone. Don' waste yer time on me. 'm a worthless, soulless thing that doesn' deserve t' 'ave anybody care about 'im! No one ever did."

_**Somebody get me through this nightmare,  
I can't control myself.**_

"No, Spike. You had your ups and downs but you were doing great. What made you slip, man?"

"Yer bloody nagging drove me nutters! I just wanted t' shut you up an' all those other damn wankers! I didn' slip. I just 'ad a lil breather is all! Why do you fuckers 'ave t' be so soddin' dramatic 'bout it?"

"Dramatic? Spike you almost fucking died along with Doyle! Doyle's dead, Spike… and you could've been too!"

_**So what if you can see,  
The darkest side of me...**_

Spike shut his eyes and turned away from Xander. Suddenly he hurled a nearby vase at the wall and roared.

_**No one will ever change this animal I have become...  
**_

"Why didn' you take me? Why didn' you fuckin' take me you sadistic bastard?! I was going to go soon anyway! Why didn' you bloody let me die too?!" Spike demanded out loud.

_**Help me believe it's not the real me,  
Somebody help me tame this animal...**_

_**

* * *

**_

Today was a horrible day. The sun was shining bright, almost glowing eerily. The sky was a bright, clear blue and the rotten birds were twittering incessantly as they flitted about. The grass was unnaturally green and the squirrels seemed to be taking their mating mission too seriously. All in all, the worst day to have a funeral; though he supposed Doyle would have been delighted.

Doyle had liked that deliriously happy, sunshine n' cotton candy vibe – his major reason for his drug addiction, particularly his affinity for crystal meth. Doyle used to say that the meth made him feel bright and shiny. Spike supposed Doyle would want no less than a bright and shiny day for his funeral.

_"Man that is born of a woman is of few days and full of trouble..."_ the minister droned on.

Spike blocked out the sound of the minister and reflected on his times with Doyle. Doyle was a great bloke. They had been roommates in college but lost touch. They had regained contact a year before at one of Dru's famed wild parties. Doyle had been going through a nasty divorce and had lost his company to bankruptcy. Spike had found out about Dru's philandering. Needless to say, both men were at low points. They found solace in drinking, smoking, marijuana and a few Percocets. Then they were introduced to crystal meth. Crystal meth was the best friend they never had.

Meth made them feel bright and shiny, supremely confident. It was fantastic, utter euphoria. It was like a fireworks display of happiness and bright colours went off in their brains. He guessed Doyle enjoyed the show a little bit too much.

He was shaken out of his musings by the sound of a heart-wrenching wail. He looked up to see Doyle's mother being pried away from the enclosed casket with her sons emaciated, decaying remains. She howled like a wounded beast, her eyes drowning in grief and tears. Then she cast her eyes upon him.

"_You. You bloody sonofabitch! You killed my Doyle! Murderer! I'll kill you!_" she spat, her eyes blazing with insane grief and fury.

She lunged at Spike was held back by Doyle's brother, Liam. Spike stood frozen to the spot as he watched Doyle's mother lash out at him. Xander quickly made his way over to Spike and gently took him by the arm.

"Let's go, Spike. You've paid your respects."

Spike allowed Xander to lead him away while Doyle's mother screamed, "_Murderer! Filthy murderer! You killed my Doyle! You should rot in hell, you soulless bastard!_" like a banshee.

_He was in hell. He was paying for killing Doyle_.

* * *

It had been a week since Xander had checked him into rehab. It had been a week of misery. The rehab people had said no phone calls during the first week but he had managed to persuade a nurse, Andrew, to let him call Xander. He had pleaded with Xander to pick him up. Xander had refused and Spike had called him a plethora of insulting names and threatened to disappear.

Rehab was hell. They gave him two drugs (Methadone and Clonidine), saying that the drugs were to wean him off his regular stuff. He couldn't get how flooding your system with drugs that were very similar in nature to your regular drugs was supposed to get you clean. The highs produced were less intense and left him with dry mouth and dizziness…like Ecstasy Lite.

They gradually reduced the dosage of the drugs and he got to the point where he wasn't shaking like a nervous virgin. He'd even managed to join in on the morning walks meditation, acupuncture and lectures, though he avoided the individual and group counselling sessions.

In his third week, family and friends were added to the mix. Xander was the only one that showed, the only one who still believed in him, the only one not disenchanted by his previous rehab stints. Xander strong-armed into the group counselling session, determined that Spike would participate in the key component of rehab.

So there they were – exchanging stories about addiction and talking feelings and shit. Spike was content listening to everybody else share. He even believed that he would get away with not saying anything… until the bloody counsellor had to open her foul, nosy mouth. Could a mouth be nosy?

"So…Mr. Pratt…"

"Spike."

"Spike…do you have anything to share?"

"Sharing is what got Doyle hooked and now he's dead. No. I don't have anything to bloody share!"

"Spike…" said Xander in a somewhat warning tone.

"No, Xander…I don't have anything to bloody fucking share! I don't want to talk about my _feelings_ and about how it was _my darkest, loneliest hour_… that's why I took the damn bloody drugs in the first place… so I didn't have to think about all that darkness and despair and all the shit _Behind the Music_ is made of!"

Spike sprang from his chair and paced about the room.

_**I can't escape myself...  
**_

"This is not about what you want, Spike. Dammit! It's about breaking this unhealthy, life-threatening habit that you have. You've gotta face your demons. You were doing so good before and you can do even better this time," Xander insisted.

_**So many times I've lied,  
But there's still rage inside...  
**_

"Better? I can't do better this time? I was doing so great then because I didn't have this _thing_ within me…I was all fine and dandy because I didn't know that I had bloody breast cancer! Me… Spike Pratt… Rock God… Sexiest Man Alive… Breast Cancer Victim? That's the most unmanly illness to have ever! Other rockers end up looking like bloody Ozzie Osbourne or dead or living with AIDS or HIV. Me…I got fucking _breast cancer_!" Spike ranted.

All of a sudden he broke into frightening, hysterical laughter. "_Breast cancer…bloody breast cancer… with the blood cutesy pink ribbons and the charity walks and Special K…breast cancer…_" he muttered between laughs.

_**Somebody get me through this nightmare,  
I can't control myself...**_

Xander slowly approached him and put his and on Spike's shoulder to still his movement. Spike whirled around and decked Xander in the nose and growled, "I don't want your fucking pity! Pity's no good to me. Pity can't fix my soddin' _breast cancer_! You wanna help me? Get me some fuckin' meth… make all this go away."

_**Help me believe it's not the real me,  
Somebody help me tame this animal...**_

_**This animal I have become.**_


	2. Like a Zit on Picture Day

Chapter One

"Mr. Pratt—"

"Spike," he insisted.

Why did she feel like _she_ was the patient instead of the doctor? Confrontation was never really her thing. She could talk down trigger-happy troubled teens from putting bullets into the entire school population, but she couldn't tell this man that he was being an asshole? Dr. Tara McClay, renowned and respected psychiatrist, could not understand how that was possible.

"Right… _S-Spike_…ahh… I-I've asked to see you because…'cause…" Tara stuttered, as she tried to get out what she wanted to say.

" 's this gonna take all day, pet? 'Cause 've got a li'l 'watch-paint-dry' thing tha' I really don' wanna miss," Spike snarked.

_God,_ he was getting snippy, she hated snippy! Snippy made her stutter even more and look like a bigger idiot. How did she ever get involved in this line of work again?

_C'mon, McClay…don't let him get to you. You can do this. You've been doing this for years. This is no biggie_, Tara encouraged herself.

Tara closed her eyes and took a deep breath, slowly counting to five in her mind. Then she opened her eyes and held Spike's gaze.

"Spike, you've not been participating in the group counselling sessions. You probably think you're too macho for the hugs n' tears sharing thing, but it's necessary. Over the years, I've found that when you're surrounded by people who've had similar experiences, you tend to be more honest with yourself. The group provides a safe space where you won't be judged because, hey, they've been in your spot. Then we can get to the root of your problems and make sure that you don't relapse," Tara explained, her eyes pleading with him to understand.

Spike was unfazed. He raised an eyebrow at her as if to say, "Are you quite finished?"

Tara sighed in defeat.

"Ok, Spike. Stay silent if you want to but I'm not the one who wants to get out of rehab. If you leave this place unchanged, you might have your freedom but you'll lose all those people who've been on your side. Think about it," Tara warned him.

* * *

'_Scavengers…damn hypocritical, arrogant, nosy scavengers!_' Lilah Morgan fumed inwardly as she tossed the day's copy of _The National Enquirer_ onto her desk. She blew out a ragged breath and rubbed her throbbing temples with her fingertips.

"_Oh God_…" Lilah groaned, burying her face in her hands.

She plodded over to her plush, oversized leather couch and dropped down into its smooth, soft, welcoming depths. The slight pulsing in her temples had morphed into a gigantic, dizzying, killer migraine that threatened to make her head explode within a few seconds. Even worse, her eyes hurt, she ached all over, and she felt horribly nauseous. It was as if her body was going through a rapid self-destruct sequence. For the first time in her life, Lilah Morgan found herself succumbing to the pressure of her work.

At the moment things were going great for her, life decided to take a huge dump on her; and that 'dump' was her pain-in-the- ass salvation – William "Spike" Pratt. Lilah had become involved with Spike and his band, Blind Love, seven years previously, when she had dated Spike's cousin, Wesley Wyndham-Pryce. She had been a mere rookie underling at Wolfram & Hart – a prestigious law firm, who had been looking for a big break to propel her to the top of the corporate ladder. Blind Love had just got their big break and had asked her to take a look at their contract and the rest was history.

Lilah had ended up being more than their lawyer; she had become their publicist and agent as well. She had taken Blind Love to the acme of stardom in a couple months. Blind Love became gods among men, loved and adored my millions of fans of all demographics worldwide. Blind Love's success had encouraged her to leave Wolfram & Hart and start her own public relations firm – _Echelon_. She had even taken on a few promising rising stars. However, Blind Love was her bread and butter, her top priority.

So when the band hadn't been in the charts for over two years and had failed to produce new material, Lilah was concerned. When the front man and star songwriter had took a downward spiral _twice_ and was delicious fodder for the media, and the record label execs were threatening legal action if an album wasn't delivered within the next six months, Lilah was anxious. But when some teenaged kid idolized Spike and decided to OD to one of his songs from his first downward spiral and the story was splashed across every tabloid, newspaper, magazine, website, talk show and even _brochure_ in sight, Lilah was going to have a major meltdown!

_Dammit, Spike! I just pumped all I had into this business._

Lilah wanted to bawl her eye out like a baby- so overwhelmed and frustrated was she. Whenever babies cried, someone always came along and made everything better. Surely if she cried someone would take everything out of her hands and fix it, right?

So, for the first time in over two decades, Lilah Morgan cried. She cried not only for the disaster her professional life was becoming, but for the ripple effect it was having on her marriage to Wesley. For that moment, the usually formidable, unruffled Lilah Morgan became a messy, sobbing heap.

* * *

_Compasiόn_ was a rehabilition facility located in Santa Barbara, practically a stone's throw away from the Pacific Ocean. It was built by Don Joaquín Alvarez- Quintero, a _hidalgo_, during the early 18th century. The building passed down throughout his generations until was sold to an Irish mobster during the Great Depression. After World War II, a Hollywood starlet bought it and it became a mecca for the rich and famous. Before she died, she asked that it be made into a refuge for others like her who lived a wild life and wanted to overcome addiction. Thus, _Compasiόn_ (translating to mean 'mercy' in Spanish) was born.

_Compasiόn_ was unlike the other rehab facilities that Hollywood flocked to. _Compasiόn _was a commitment that you couldn't get out of; once you started you had to see it through. Getting in was like applying to an Ivy League school; you had to be thoroughly screened before they took you on as a patient. He didn't know how, but he was glad Xander had got him into the damn place.

Today was Sunday. Visitor's Day. The day when kids squealed with delight and proudly displayed their hand-made cards with 'I Love You' and a labelled picture of a stick family scrawled in crayon. The day when spouses gave smiles, kisses and hugs of reassurance, wrapping you up in a bubble of warm, fuzzy love. Parents fussing over how much food you hadn't eaten and promises of a feast worthy of a king when you came home. Friends poking fun and making plans for merriment you'd never seen the likes of. The day that made you pray , even if you weren't the praying kind, that you would never go back to your former self; because you wanted to keep all that love focused on you, you wanted to be better…be the best. The one day, the few fleeting _hours_, that made all the other rough, hellish days bearable.

Spike looked around the lounge, drinking in the reunions of his fellow rehab sojourners with their loved ones. All around him swirled joy, laughter and love… none of which he was the cause of. He didn't have any family and friends there to cocoon him with their love and support, to shield him from the suffocating warmth of the others.

The words of Dr. McClay came back to him, "…_you'll lose all those people who've been on your side." _Then he recalled how Xander was the only one in his corner, but even Xander looked like he was backing out too.

He remembered a cartoon about Bugs Bunny and the Easter Bunny. After being chased by Elmer Fudd and brutalised by a bratty kid, the Easter Bunny had declared in defeat, _"Things like this make me go all to pieces…"_ Bugs Bunny told him, _"Keep yer chin up. Oh…ehh…remember Doc, keep smiling!"_ Spike wanted to, but the empty seats in front of him were winning the battle.

Suddenly, Spike got up and walked out of the room, his usual swagger absent.

* * *

"I bet you'd kill for a cigarette, huh?" came a throaty feminine drawl from behind.

Spike turned to see a dark-haired beauty in a white baby tee with _Bitchy Is My Middle Name_ on the front, short denim shorts and no shoes on.

"Yeah. Got any?" Spike asked.

"I've got peeps," she replied, sauntering over to him.

"You've got peeps? Why do I feel like I'm in some prison movie?" he responded.

"Sometimes it feels like it – stuck here until your reformed. All your vices taken away… what else does it sound like?" she said.

"Prison. So, you've got peeps, eh? How much is it gonna cost me?" Spike inquired.

"Nothin'" she replied.

Spike raised an eyebrow and looked at her with scepticism.

"Nothin'? Oh really?" he drawled.

"I've got tons… just thought I'd spread the love around. Y'know, help those in need and all that shit," she explained.

"Ok. Lemme 'ave one," Spike shrugged.

"My pleasure," she purred.

She brought her hand from behind her back and brandished…. two bright yellow marshmallow Peeps ™ .

"Wha' th' bloody hell 's this? I thought you said you had 'peeps' who kep' you 'n smokes?" Spike demanded.

"No. I said I have peeps…_ sugary marshmallow duckies_," she explained with a laugh.

Spike glared at her.

"C'mon, take one. It'll be good for you. Every time I get a craving I eat Peeps. Peeps are wicked sweet and get cloying real quick. It's like sugar shock therapy. You think cigarettes, you think Peeps, you think 'Jesus, not another one!' I used to crave cigarettes every minute of every day; now, I only get a craving once in a while," she explained.

Spike eyed the marshmallow duckies as if they were the instrument of Satan before he gingerly took one and popped it into his mouth. Spike grimaced as he slowly chewed the marshmallow.

"_Sweet_," Faith said.

"Sickeningly sweet," Spike agreed as he swallowed.

"Working already. I'm Faith, by the way – Faith Lehane," she introduced herself as she sat beside him on the bench.

"Spike," he replied.

"Everyone on the face of the planet knows who _you_ are. So, Spike, what's your poison?"

"Sex, alcohol, drugs, leather pants… the usual rock star vices."

"Same here... except I'm a TV star. I saw you in the lounge; thought you could use a friend."

"Everyone knows who _you_ are Kay Bennet. Friends… I have those for as long as I can keep goldfish."

"You watch my show. Spike watches _Passions_…who'd a thunk? You can't get rid of true friends. True friends are like a zit on picture day. You hope they'll go away, you do everything to make them go away; but they're there in your face, stubborn as hell."

" Well, 't seems 'm zit-free, luv."

"'Nah. Guy like you's got the forever kinda friends."

"Yeah? Didn't see 'em t'day."

"Why would they go through all the trouble of getting you into rehab? I know you didn't volunteer for this. They wouldn't waste all that time fighting to getchya into rehab and just desert ya like that. The day's not over, Spike. Peep?"

"Yeah. Gimme 'nother."

"This is the start of a beautiful friendship, kid."

* * *

"Mr. Pratt?" the muffled voice accompanied the knock at his door.

"Yeah?" Spike asked as he opened the door, a note of slight annoyance in his voice.

"You have a visitor- a Lilah Morgan. She says she's your lawyer," the attendant informed him.

Spike paused as if contemplating what to do about Lilah and then he said with a sigh of resignation, "I'll see her."

The attendant nodded and left to deliver Spike's message. Spike closed the door and returned to his seat by the bay window. The window afforded him a spectacular view of the nearby ocean and well-tended garden below. Shortly after, Lilah greeted him, "Well, if it isn't The Star's favourite circus monkey."

"Hello to you too, Princess," Spike said, not even bothering to look at her.

"Cozy little room with a view… not bad. Even better than the matchbox I'll go back to once my business goes under and I declare bankruptcty," Lilah remarked.

"You, bankrupt? Hardly. You're young n' beautiful…you'll figure out a way," Spike quipped.

"I am _not_ shaking my money-maker for Quentin Travers because you've been too strung out to deliver his final album as per the contract you signed with him," Lilah sallied.

Spike sighed, turning to face her.

"Bloody 'ell! 've been doin' tha' a lot lately," Spike grumbled.

"What? Getting high? No shit."

" 'm talkin' 'bout bloody _sighing_ like a pathetic ponce. You'd think someone was lettin' all the bleeding air out m' damn face!" Spike responded bitterly.

Suddenly, Lilah burst out laughing. Spike glared at her. Lilah laughed harder.

"You done now?" Spike growled as Lilah regained composure.

Lilah nodded and sat on his bed.

"Good. How's … how's Percy?"

"_Wesley's_ fine. He's over-the-moon' –ish right now; I'm pregnant."

"Lemme guess. He wants to go drown in Suburbia and you want to stay in Tinseltown. 'ell you're not 'xac'ly thrilled 'bout th' li'l sprog are you?"

"Ughh! The thought of those little boxes… all made of ticky-tacky… June Cleaver I am not. I'd rather die than live in the 'burbs. But enough of me, let's talk about —"

Lilah paused to answer her cellphone.

"Lilah Morgan…Andrew?"

Lilah covered her phone and mouthed, "_One minute_," to Spike. Spike nodded and she left.

"Andrew, you moron! I swear you're going to make me kill you…." Lilah's voice drifted out of the room.

* * *

"Spike?" Lilah called out as she returned to the room.

"Yeah? What did Joxer the Nerdy do this time?" Spike replied from behind the door to his bathroom.

"I told him to pickup some stuff I was donating to a homeless shelter, some project of one of those skinny blonde it-girls. He accidentally donated my favourite Dolce leather coat and a mink wrap; and to make it worse, she's one of those bleeding heart, tree hugger types. She's all 'save the animals' and Andrew sends over dead cow and flayed weasel. Sometimes I wonder why I ever hired him," Lilah lamented.

"Give the kid a break, Princess. Everybody's got a cause these days, 's hard t' keep track of who's saving wh—"

Spike was cut off as he was suddenly tackled.

"Uncle Spike!" his attackers squealed with delight.

"Oi! Yer.. crushin' m' spleen!" Spike wheezed.

"Hello, Spike. Nice to see that you're not in a drug-induced stupor. JD and Billy, get off your uncle this instant or I'm shutting down your lemonade stand!"Anya threatened.

The little boys quickly released Spike and turned their attention to his bouncy bed. Anya was about to reprimand them for turning Spike's bed into a trampoline when Spike stopped her, "Nice to see you too. Let 'em be, luv. Boys will be boys."

"That's such a sexist remark! And coming from you? Tsk tsk…I'm sooo disappointed in you, Uncle Spike."

"Hello, Ducky," Spike greeted a teenage girl.

Her little brothers, seven-year-old Jesse Daniel and William Wesley were twin mirror images of Xander but sixteen year-old Hallie Christina was Anya's replica.

"I'm not a baby waddling around in diapers anymore. You can stop calling me Ducky," Hallie admonished Spike.

" n' miss the brassed off look you get when I say it in front of your li'l friends? Never," Spike declared.

"Wanker," Hallie mumbled.

"Aww, Ducky. You call me the sweetest names," Spike mock gushed as he hugged her, squeezing her and ruffling her hair for good measure.

"Ba Dut!" came a tiny voice.

" Aww, Spike. She's jealous. Look at her little face all scrunched up. She's saying 'Bad Ducky'," Willow cooed.

"No worries, Illyria. You'll always be Uncle Spike's number one girl. C'mere Li'l Bit," Spike reassured the baby girl in Willow's arms.

"Say hello to Uncle Spike, Ria," Willow urged the baby girl.

The baby practically leaped out of Willow's grasp and launched herself at Spike. Spike caught her and she giggled. She grabbed Spike's face and began to plant wet kisses all over it. Spike laughed and gave her and Eskimo kiss. Illyria squealed and wrapped her arms around his neck and put her head on his shoulder.

" Thought you weren't comin'" Spike said as he looked at Xander, Anya, Wesley, Lilah, Willow and Oz and their children.

"Us? Not come? Insane!" Xander scoffed.

"Who else would explain to this tosser why Man U is better than Arsenal?" Wesley added, pointing to Xander.

"And everyone else is tired of hearing about the cutest thing Ria did the other day," Willow joined in.

"And I got an idea for a song... a total clash of the 80s," said Oz.

"And Lilah and I have to talk to you about the state of your finances. What do you know about ForEx trading?" Anya chimed in.

"Uncle Spike, we have Burnout 2!" the twins, JD and Billy announced.

"And my Lit teacher is such a pompous know-it-all! He's all dismissive of Wide Sargasso Sea, talking about it being the waste product of a crazed mind…"

"Pi," Illyria cooed.

Spike basked in the attention of his 'family'.

_**Like a zit on picture day...**_


	3. Thanks A Million

Chapter Two

_Home sweet home, _Buffy sighed as she opened the door to her apartment and Enya's _Only Time_ resonated throughout the air.

She hung her keys on the designated rack by the door and plopped down on the nearby chaise lounge. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths, smiling as she inhaled the delicious scent of what promised to be a tantalizing gourmet dinner.

_A great ending to an absolutely shitty day_, she mused as she lay there thinking of the day's events.

First, her wretched (yet beloved) gas-guzzling Beetle, _Al_, had been rammed into by some red-light running, police-eluding jackass. Then, the mechanic informed her that _Al_ was in need of repairs beyond the ones caused by the accident – which meant mucho dinero that her emaciated pockets couldn't cover. So she had to take the bus to work (making her later than she already was).

When she got to work, she had to spring into action immediately as the victims of an accident involving a school bus filled with high school kids, were rushed for medical attention. Even though she worked herself to the bone, she still lost five of the teens. She had to fight the urge to break down as she saw the faces of the grief-stricken parents and guardians when she relayed the tragic news. Sometimes she really hated being a doctor.

She looked forward to lunch bringing her some calorie-laden, sugar-filled goodness but the damned vending machine ate her money! After kicking and swearing at it a few times, she had to resign herself to eating horrid food from the hospital cafeteria. The place might be named _Angel of Mercy_ but the cafeteria was ruthless… the very _Devil of Digestion_. The day wasn't very promising after that…until she got a call as soon as her shift ended.

She looked at the display screen of her cell phone and frowned at the strange number. Buffy prayed that it wasn't someone calling with bad news; she didn't think she could handle anything else going wrong. She answered her phone, her breath held and her heart hammering furiously. It was a representative of ShopCo – she was the grand prize winner of their 10th anniversary promotion. She had won two million dollars. Buffy asked if the rep was kidding, the rep insisted that it was bona fide. Buffy immediately squealed with delight and did a happy dance (on the inside of course, 'cause hey, hospital!).

As soon as Kendra joined her, she told her the good news and they both ran to Kendra's car and screamed their heads off. Then they called Cordy, the other member of 'The Triad' (as Kendra's husband, Lindsey, had dubbed them) and told her the good news. Cordy had added her scream of delight over the phone and insisted that 'major party-age' would be in order on the weekend.

~*~*~*~

The elevator had been stuck (again), forcing Buffy to take the stairs up to her apartment on the fifth floor. Normally, Buffy would have been annoyed by this but nothing could deter the buoyant mood she was in. So she practically flew up the stairs and skipped to her apartment at the end of the corridor -5G.

As soon as she opened the door, all the day's excitement took its toll and she had to take a breather on the chaise lounge. When her bones didn't feel quite so weary, she got up and toed off her shoes. Then she padded over to her son's room.

She called out to him once, but Enya drowned out the sound of her voice – knocking on his door would be useless. So she opened his door and went into his room.

"You would not believe the day I ha --" said Buffy as she entered the room.

Buffy had seen just about everything – working as a doctor at Angel of Mercy Hospital in Los Angeles ensured that. She dealt with things out of the normal person's scope on a daily basis; she was trained for that. However, nothing in her books from medical school had anything on '_Finding thy Teenage Son Making Out with a Boy'_ – 'cause she sure could use that info at the moment.

Buffy never dreamed that her son, Rick, could possibly be gay. And with his best friend Shane, the resident Casanova at Hemery High? Inconceivable!

"Wha..Y-you...A...Him...Li... Gay?!" Buffy screeched as she gestured at them.

The boys hurriedly broke apart and turned down the music.

Rick reclined on his bed, the picture of devilish innocence. He reclined on his bed, his elbows supporting the weight of his upper body and one leg bent at the knee perching at the edge of the bed. He looked at her through the gap in his shoulder-length sandy blond hair that fell in front of his vivid hazel eyes with their flecks of green in them. He had that 'I-know-what-I'm-doing-don't-worry-your-pretty-little-head-about-it' look in his eyes – a look that she thought Riley held the patent on. His charming smile said 'I've-been-a-good-Boy-Scout-honest!'

"Mom, it's not what you think," said Rick in a calm, almost bored tone.

She looked pointedly at his naked torso and then at his accomplice, his best friend Shane. Shane was what you'd call the All-American boy. He was a little over six feet, tanned, honey blond hair, blue eyes, boyish charm, jock, and resident Casanova at Hemery High. Buffy was stunned to see him with his tongue down her son's throat.

"You're right. Obviously, you were choking on a….a … Jawbreaker and Shane, being the best friend that he is, decided to use the Heimlich manoeuvre…with his tongue! Thanks for saving my son, Shane! You'd make a great rescue worker or... or a-a paramedic! w-with that tongue. I'll be sure to put in a good word for you with the EMT supervisor at work," Buffy rambled.

"When you're ready for a sensible conversation, you can join us for dinner," Rick informed her as he bid Shane to follow him past Buffy and out of the room.

_Huh?_

~*~*~*~

"I see you've decided to join us," remarked Rick as he spotted her walking into the 'dining room'.

It wasn't really a dining room, per se, more like a partitioned area with a dining table and chairs. The apartment had only one bedroom, a bathroom, a kitchenette, and a sizeable open space that was supposed to serve as a living/dining area. Buffy had kept the bedroom with its two small walk-in closets (of which Rick commanded one) and divided the open space into two major partitions – a small bedroom for Rick and a living/dining area. The chaise lounge served as its own little 'reception area' in the corridor that connected all the rooms. It wasn't a bad deal for someone with a host of bills (particularly the titanic student loans) and a brilliant kid to send to an excellent private school.

"I'm trying to be the cool, non-judgmental mom here… but you're not even doing the obligatory guilty looks and stuttery proving of the innocence!" said Buffy.

"Sit down, Mom. Have some sensible conversation," Rick told her, indicating the place he had set for her.

"Try it with risotto and tiramisu… it's great," Shane quipped.

"Although they can't compare to _Lips of Rick_, I suppose," Buffy parried, raising her eyebrow at the boys.

"Ooh... score one for the mouthy old lady. Let me save you the awkward, introductory 'So' and 'Uhm'. I am not gay," said Rick as he shared a plate of risotto and set it down before his mother.

"You're not gay," said Buffy.

"I'm not gay," Rick reassured her.

"And Shane's..." Buffy trailed off with a questioning look.

"Gayer than The Fab Five. The kiss was just a 'something-to-remember-you/coming-out/going-away' thing," Shane supplied.

"Oh... and you're not gay," Buffy repeated once more to Rick.

"I. Am. Not. Gay… just very secure in my manhood," Rick repeated once more.

"Oh thank God!" Buffy sighed in relief as the information sunk in.

"Yeah. Better me than you, buddy… it's a highly contagious disease y'know," Shane teased.

" Homosexuality… the perpetrator of grandkids from a desperate teen surrogate or a Third World family surviving on the generous 25 cents a day from Americans all over. They can never say no to little Mei Ling! Damn you Sally Struthers!" Rick added with a smirk.

Buffy glared at the boys and playfully smacked them on the backs of their heads.

"I promise you that my heart beats only for the female-shaped humans 18 – 30… even if Shane can kiss like the devil and has a tight, alluring butt that doesn't quit," Rick teased, leaning over and kissing Buffy on the forehead.

"But if you're ever choking on a Jawbreaker…" Shane added with a grin and a waggle of his eyebrows.

Buffy rolled her eyes at Shane and couldn't help but join in the laughter of both boys.

"Guess who won the 'Thanks A Million' anniversary promotion at ShopCo?" Buffy sing-songed as soon as the laughter died down.

"No way!" said Rick.

"Way! _I_ won two million dollars!"

"Holy fuck!" Rick exclaimed.

"Sean Padraic Finn!" Buffy scolded.

"Sorry, Mom…but that's a lotta cash… could do a lotta things…. like taking your favourite son shopping at Home Depot…"

"You're my _only_ son."

"All the more reason to show how much you love and value me… like getting me a SawStop TGP52 Contractor Saw…"

"I am _not_ getting you a high-powered saw! I'm not even getting you the good ole fashioned one! Besides, the thing costs over $2000!"

"Yeah…but we're rich now. Well, maybe not _rich_…but we could be mistaken for it. You can afford the saw _and_ a few spare fingers if I lose any."

Buffy gave him the patented 'That's-really-suppposed-to-make-me-budge? Not-gonna-happen-mister!' look that only a mother could give.

"In case you haven't noticed, I am _not_ Daddy Warbucks," Buffy quipped.

"A haircut, a cigar and a turban-wearing bodyguard could fix that," Rick retorted.

"Only if you're a cute freckly redhead in a dress that sings 'Tomorrow'' " Buffy parried with a wry grin.

"I think you'd look cute in a dress, Rick," Shane remarked.

"You'd love to see me all dolled up, wouldn't you, Shane?"

"You _are _very pleasing to look at and nicely shaped," Shane beamed.

~*~*~*~

Cordy's promised 'party-age' was in full swing. The festivity was taking place (as with practically _all_ of their festivities) in the backyard of the Redondo Beach home of Kendra and Lindsey McDonald. Buffy's heart swelled with happiness as she took in the sight of the merrymaking.

Kendra was chasing Lindsey. They made a striking pair. Lindsey looked like one of those cowboys on the cover of a romance novel. He had tanned skin, brown hair that fell a little above his shoulders, gorgeous blue eyes, sexy smile and a lean, not-overly-muscled body. The subtle Texas twang that peppered his speech was the tantalizing cherry on top.

Kendra was Lindsey's exotic other half. She looked like a warrior queen. She had smooth café au lait skin, brown eyes that were slightly upturned at the outer corners, a button nose, and full lips that were all set into her oval face. Her ebony hair was elaborately braided into a ponytail. Even though she had two children, her body was well-toned and curvy.

Cordy was laughing and twirling their daughter, Alicia, around in fast circles. Cordelia had golden skin, sable hair, hazel eyes, high cheekbones, a straight nose and bow-shaped lips that were set into her slightly round face. She had a nice body and a bosom that made men weep. Five year old Alicia was a blend of her parents – café au lait skin, blue eyes, curly brown hair, button nose, Lindsey's smile and charm as well as Kendra's strong-willed boldness. Naturally, she ruled kindergarten.

Her baby brother, 7 month old Gavin, was happily giving a chicken bone 'what-for' as Rick entertained him. He was a shade lighter than his sister, with bright blue eyes with a fringe of brown near his pupils, a small nose and a wide grin that showed his lone lower front tooth. It was uncertain as to exactly which of his parents Gavin resembled. At times he was all Kendra, and at others he seemed to be the spitting image of Lindsey. He loved to laugh, especially when Rick was around.

Rick was currently regaling Gavin with tales of the adventures of 'Mr. Gordo, the all-time best agent of the P.I.G.S. (Platoon for International Grub Security)'. Mr. Gordo was a stuffed pig given to Buffy by her mother. Buffy had given the pig to Rick. Rick then gave the pig to Alicia and Alicia passed it on to Gavin. They sometimes joked that Mr. Gordo should be insured since he was an heirloom, waiting to be passed to the children of the 'Triad'.

_We made a beautiful boy, Riley. He's sweet, kind, considerate, bright… and such a stubborn smart ass! He's got a streak of that protective Alpha male thing you had. Everybody loves him. You'd be so proud of him,_ Buffy whispered to her deceased husband as she watched her son.

Buffy often spoke to Riley, believing that even though he wasn't present in body, his spirit was there. Buffy had been in love with Riley from the moment she met him at age 4; he had been 10 years old. Buffy mooned over him in private for years until the day she decided to do something about it.

Riley had been a pilot in the US Navy. He had taken his leave and returned home to spend time with his parents. She had determined that Riley would not return without his eyes being opened to the desirable young woman she had become. She, along with the help of her best friend Cordelia Chase, had ensured that where Riley was Buffy was. Additionally, any opportunity to pair off or be alone with him in some way was seized. Hence, Riley Finn found himself constantly in the company of Buffy Summers for the two weeks of his leave.

The last night of his stay, Riley admitted to having romantic feelings for Buffy for quite a while and kissed her senseless. Needless to say, Riley Finn got a very 'special' going away present. He and Buffy exchanged plenty of letters over the following months. As soon as he got leave, he returned to his beloved Buffy… and her furious parents. Parents tended to be like that when you got their 16 year old daughter pregnant.

Buffy's parents were dead set against her keeping the baby. They didn't envision a bright future if she did. She would be struggling with school and a baby while he went to fight in Iraq (where the casualties were steadily increasing). Essentially, Buffy would be on her own until Riley came home, if he ever lived to come home.

Buffy ignored her parents and they ran off to Georgia and got married. Buffy's parents threw her out and Riley's parents shunned him. Cordelia talked her father, Mitchell Chase, into letting Buffy live with them as her companion. Mitch readily agreed as he felt guilty about his prolonged absences from his daughter due to his frequent business trips.

So Buffy moved into the Chase mansion while Riley returned to the _USS Saratoga_. They continued writing letters to each other and Buffy even sent pictures of herself and the baby's ultrasound. Sometimes Riley would call when he could. She prayed nightly for his safe return. It seemed her parents' words had gone from their lips to God's ears – Riley's plane was shot down by an Iraqi aircraft on February 17, 1991. They found no evidence of his death or survival.

At first, Buffy had hoped that he had survived. The hope increased in fervour after the birth of their son, Sean Padraic Finn. She wanted so badly for Riley to be alive, even if he had to be in Iraqi clutches. At least he could be rescued from Saddam Hussein, but the Grim Reaper was out of the realm of experience of the US fighting forces. After a year, the Coalition troops were gone and Riley's fate was still unknown. Buffy gave up on Riley being alive and gave in to her grief.

Cordy had been her only supporter before and after Riley's death. Her so-called friends had quickly disassociated themselves from the 'statistic teenage mother'. The tragedy had not moved either of their parents to make amends – their high society reputation mattered more than family.

Towards the end of their senior year, Mitch Chase ran into trouble with the IRS and their 'good life' came to an abrupt end. As soon as they graduated, Cordy and Buffy moved to the city and took jobs as customer service representatives at an insurance company. They soon became favourites of their boss, Ethan Rayne, and he pulled a few strings and got them into UCLA. Buffy studied medicine and Cordy studied theatre, film and television.

They met Kendra and Lindsey as volunteer counsellors at UCLA's summer camp for lower-income children. Their friendship grew and continued for over a decade since that summer. Buffy also became friends with one of her professors – Rupert Giles. It was he who had helped Rick to get into the highly selective Cait Midland Academy when the time for high school arrived

Buffy was glad for the love, support and guidance of her 'family'. They all mothered and fathered Rick throughout his life whenever Buffy was unable to. Sometimes she shuddered at the thought of where she would probably be without them in her life.

"So exactly how rich are you?" was Ethan's greeting as he strolled into the backyard.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you it's rude to ask a person about how much money they have?" Buffy answered as he hugged her.

"Ah, love, I didn't ask how much you had really…just the degree of your wealth," Ethan retorted.

"Let's just say it's enough to buy a penis mobile or two like yours," teased a familiar female voice.

"Yes, 'cause getting one like Ripper's is a _tall_ order. He's got a lot to make up for y'see," Ethan volleyed.

Everyone laughed heartily at Ethan's jibe.

Ethan kissed Buffy's forehead and went over to Cordy. Buffy smiled as she saw Giles and his wife, Olivia, joining the party. A huge smile broke out on her face and she ran and greeted the couple.

"Now that everyone's here, we can officially get this party started," Lindsey declared.

The music started up and the refreshments flowed. They laughed, dance, teased each other, discussed current affairs and caught up on each other's lives. When the men went off to play poker and talk about 'man business', the children were put to bed and the women cleaned up.

~*~*~*~

"So how're you gonna spend it?" asked Cordy as soon as they sat down to slices of cheesecake.

"First things first, I'm paying off my student loan. Then I'm gonna have Lindsey invest some for Rick and me. The rest I'll use to get an honest-to-goodness house and then spoil myself. I'm gonna fix _Al_ and get a new car too," Buffy answered.

"Any chance the spoiling includes being a partner in your best friend's party planning business?" Cordy ventured.

"Cordy!" said Kendra in a reproachful tone.

"What? If you can't sponge off the generosity of your friend then you can't truly call her your friend. Besides, if she's gonna fix _and_ keep that vortex she calls a car, she can throw some money my way," Cordy contended.

"Win a little money and suddenly you're Daddy Warbucks…. Of course I'll do it, Cordy. You wouldn't let me live if I didn't," Buffy responded.

"What about Joyce?" asked Olivia.

"Joyce? What about Joyce?" asked Cordy and Kendra in unison.

Buffy glared at Olivia. Olivia levelled her with a triumphant look.

Buffy took a deep breath and explained, "Joyce called a few nights ago. She's got a brain tumour. The doctor gave her at most six months to live. She wants to see me."

"Oh. So what you gonna do?" asked Cordy.

"I don't know," Buffy sighed.

"You should go," Olivia advised her.

"I agree," Kendra added.

"Guys--" Buffy began.

"No, Buffy. The last time she reached out to you and you turned away from her. She survived her breast cancer; but now she's not going to survive this tumour. You were young and angry then," Cordy cut her off.

"Now you're a grown woman who's going to let it go and make things right," Kendra insisted.

"Damn straight, Kenny. So when are you going? And it better be soon… _very_ soon," Cordy said firmly, giving Buffy a no-nonsense look.

"She's going to call Joyce _tonight_ and tell her that she's coming to Sunnydale…" Olivia began, prompting Buffy with a look.

"To spend the rest of the summer with her," Buffy finished in defeat.

"Good… _very_ good, Buffy," said Kendra with a pleased look.

"We'll be over to help in the morning," Olivia declared,

"It's not like I'm moving there," Buffy protested.

"Y'know…that's not a bad idea. It's a nice break from your hectic life here in LA… how much excitement can that One-Starbucks town have? Plus, you'll get more time with your mom," Cordy suggested.

" Yeah, but what about Rick? It's his senior year," Buffy remarked.

"He won't die, Buffy. Children move all the time," Kendra assured her.

"I have to think about it and ask Rick how he feels," Buffy replied.


End file.
